Page 27 of Full Split
When the previous flight finally gets on their way, the gate is mostly empty. It’s not long before Niles and Weston get bored enough to try some of their ridiculous social media challenges. So now my son is lying flat on his back in the middle of gate D15, with his legs up in the air while Niles tries to balance well enough to do a handstand. They gather a small crowd of onlookers, who ooh and ahh when they’re in position. But I know this isn’t where it’s going to end.
Sure enough, Weston grunts out, “Okay, ready?” as he widens his legs. When his arms are far enough apart, Niles slowly brings his legs down until he’s dangling between Weston’s legs in anelevated full split. They wobble a little while the growing crowd claps and snaps pictures of the spectacle.
I watch the entire stunt from my spot at the bar, my gaze zoned in on the corded muscles of Niles’ arms. How strong and lithe he looks. It goes right to my crotch, aided by the relaxing effects of the one drink I’ve already finished.
So when Weston throws up his hands because he knows they’re about to come tumbling down in spectacular fashion, I can’t jump up and run to their aid, afraid someone will notice my situation.
The pose crumbles, and Niles crashes down onto Weston, still in the split position, effectively scissoring my son. Weston cries out, and they roll onto the airport floor, both of them holding their crotches while laughing so hard they’re in tears.
My palm meets my forehead.
They get up and give the dispersing crowd a small bow, then walk over to me. Weston helps block Niles while he readjusts his packer, laughing that it’s a good thing he was wearing foam and not something hard.
At the words ‘something hard’, I swallow down the rest of my drink.
By the time we finally board our plane, I’m more than a little tipsy. Enough so that takeoff isn’t so rough and I end up falling asleep almost as soon as we reach altitude. When I blink awake, I’m leaning on Niles, my head on his chest. He has one arm around me, absentmindedly stroking the back of my neck. I shiver as goosebumps spread across my skin, and Niles looks down, smiling when he sees that I’m awake. Soft hues of brilliantcolor filter in the window, but the fathomless deep blue of Niles’ gaze could outshine any sunset.
It takes several moments to gather my wits and sit up, apologizing to Niles for using him as a pillow.
“Anytime,” he says softly, then winks. “You’re welcome to use me any way you like.”
Instinctively, I snap my head up to see if anyone heard him, but Weston is sleeping and no one else is paying us any attention.
We land shortly after, and I keep to myself while we head to baggage claim. While we’re waiting for the shuttle that will take us to our hotel, I notice Niles texting again. I can’t stop myself from peeking over his shoulder, spotting the name Jeff. Looks like they’ve been texting a lot.
Even though I’ve been the one pushing Niles away, it makes me irrationally upset to see him texting another guy. It’s enough to convince me he’s just toying with me. I think about everything we’ve shared since the night I picked him up from the bar. Every tense moment, knowing glance, and smirk he’s directed my way. How much of that was serious, or is he only playing around? Is there a difference?
Does he actually want me, or is this just a game?
And if he is serious, am I just another conquest? Anotherdaddyfor him to play with until he’s bored?
Surely he knows crossing that line would change everything. Right?
It’s going to be a very long ten days.
We learned the hard way to arrive a few days early when we have to travel cross-country or farther. Our trip to Nationals last year was rough because we didn’t expect the three-hour time difference to affect us. Since we learned our lesson, we’re in San Jose a few days before the competition begins.
I’m thankful for our foresight. Despite sleeping on the plane, I’m exhausted. After we check in, we have dinner at the hotel restaurant. I’m quiet while I listen to Weston and Niles’ conversation about what they’re expecting from different competitors, and what happens next if they make the national team.
Both Niles and Weston have been taking college courses at NC State, but they took the last semester and the summer off to commit to a grueling training and competition schedule. It was Sid’s idea, and one that has admittedly paid off. I’ve worried that them staying in North Carolina, where there aren’t any NCAA men’s gymnastics programs, would hold them back. Neither of them wanted to move so far away to go to school, and as much as I feel guilty about it, I didn’t want them to either.
The plan is for them to go back to school full time if they don’t make the national team, but they’ve been upfront that neither of them particularly want to go back. Gymnastics is their passion. If this doesn’t work out the way we hoped, they very well may end up moving farther west. They could probably get good scholarships. But damn, I’d miss them. And it’d probably be too much for me to follow my son and his best friend to whatever college they transfer to.
We’re all hoping for the best at Nationals this week.
After dinner, I head straight for bed, and the boys say they’re going to get a workout in at the hotel gym before they hit the sack.
We sleep in the next day, eat breakfast while walking around the San Jose farmer’s market, and do some sightseeing. There’s tension between me and Niles. It builds when I notice him texting a lot more than usual.
Monday is much the same, but Niles and I end up in the gym together. I try to pry about his possible new relationship. Despite my attempts at casual humor, he sees through me and teases me about being jealous.
“I’m just kidding around,” he says when my face gets hot. “I know I need to stop, though.”
I chuckle uncomfortably. “It’s okay—” I start, but he interrupts me before I can point out that I’m the one who’s acting ridiculous right now.
“It’s not okay. Not really. You made it clear you’re not interested, and I should have stopped it there. No amount of teasing is worth making you truly uncomfortable. I thought…” He makes a face. “It doesn’t matter what I thought. I’d never want to push you away.”
He says it so sincerely, my heart aches.
